


I Should Go

by interstelklance (ravenlily)



Series: Mass Effect AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mass Effect AU, Minor Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Not Really Character Death, Team as Family, no prior knowledge necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-31 07:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21121433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenlily/pseuds/interstelklance
Summary: Lance feels the air around him shake with the loud, booming screech of Harbinger’s rage as he meets Keith’s gaze - possibly for the last time. The violet cast of his grey eyes, soft even here on this desolate no man’s land, pierce his soul. How many times had the Commander done this? Put himself into harm's way for this damn galaxy, only gaining its loyalty when Reapers started falling from the sky?***A war ends, and the team is left to pick up the pieces - finding pain, comfort, and something like home along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you’ve never played a Mass Effect game, thank you so much for giving this fic a chance! I’ve made it as easily understandable as possible for new and old fans - basically all you need to know is that at one point Keith died in space and was rebuilt by Cerberus, a “humans first” group. 
> 
> Also please look up a picture of a Reaper they're terrifying. Happy reading!

Lance feels the air around him shake with the loud, booming screech of Harbinger’s rage as he meets Keith’s gaze - possibly for the last time. The violet cast of his grey eyes, soft even here on this desolate no man’s land, pierce his soul. How many times had the Commander done this? Put himself into harm's way for this damn galaxy, only gaining its loyalty when Reapers started falling from the sky?    
  


Lance was loyal to Keith - he’d stopped calling him Kogane a long time ago - and that was that. He’d followed him through a relay into the center of the galaxy, to a base no one had ever returned from. He’d gone on suicide mission after suicide mission, walked through hell...and had the time of his life. 

“ _ One hell of a ride,”  _ he’d said. 

He’d meant it.

Lance wouldn’t take it back. Not one goddamn moment of time he’d spent with Keith, not one second of those years he fought on Omega while Cerberus rebuilt the love of his life. Hell, he’d never had so much fun in a scrap as he did with Keith - and there was never any shortage. 

The scars had healed, on him  _ and  _ Keith - Mister ‘I won’t let fear compromise who I am’. Lance‘s back was still a mess, and sometimes he’d see a hint of red under the grey eyes of his boyfriend...but after everything that had happened, Keith was entitled to a little ass kicking without remorse. He’d brought the whole damn galaxy together, something he’d been told he couldn’t do, it wasn’t possible. 

God knows how he didn’t spit right in their faces and leave them to their doom. 

Lance doesn’t have time to reminisce about the past though - because suddenly they’re there, and the only thing in front of them is cracked, desolate earth and the massive Reaper guarding it. Its canon screams down towards their comrades, carving a path through people and vehicles like butter, its angry rumble thundering through the air. So Keith, Lance, and Hunk do what they have to. 

They run. 

Keith is a car length ahead of him, legs pumping and hair falling slightly out of the long braid Lance had done for him. Hunk is keeping pace, his thick muscles and heavy armor putting him on even footing with any one of the Brutes. Lance’s long legs make it easy for him to watch the Commander’s back (or his backside...being the boyfriend has its perks), keeping pace but not overtaking. Everything is going as well as it can in the middle of hell. 

Until it’s not. 

Until a rover gets blasted in front of them, until it misses Keith by a hair’s breadth as he baseball slides underneath and smashes to a stop in between them. Until Lance and Hunk split to go around and he careens through the battlefield, almost around -

Until the rover explodes, and Lance is rocketed through the air and separated from the two people that matter most. 

He’s disoriented, the ground shaking - and the rifle in his hands doesn’t look right, doesn’t fit like a glove, doesn’t have any color left but the blackened cracks torn through blue. He tries to stand, tries to get his legs under him and  _ keep moving, _ but his armor is shattered, blood coming from a dozen different cuts and burns along his body. 

He groans, and it’s drowned out by the thundering screech from above - and  _ shit,  _ this is it, isn’t it? This is how he dies: falls victim to some assholes who think wiping the galaxy of life every 50,000 years is how you solve things. 

Lance has a moment - just. Just one moment. To reflect, to yearn, to feel the hot ring in his pocket. To regret all the things he’ll never do, all the things he wants with Keith, all the things left to  _ see. _ Things that will never be done by him, or the hundreds of thousands already fallen in this war. 

He’s just another lost soul on the battlefield, adrift to whatever lies  _ beyond. _

Except he’s not: he’s still here, and  _ Keith _ is here, face smudged and armor dented, pulling him behind the exploded wreckage.

“Always - ha - always getting me out of trouble, huh?”

Keith’s eyes soften, and the world quiets, if only for a second. “Yeah, sure seems that way.  _ Stay with me -  _ and that’s an order, Lance.”

Lance sinks back, a small reprieve from the storm raging around them, and watches Keith. Just - watches him. He looks to the sky, dark hair framing his chiseled face, armor battered but not beaten. 

Never beaten.

Keith’s hand comes up to his ear, comms picking up every scratch of his voice as he hails their ship. “Normandy, do you copy? I need an evac  _ right now!” _

“We’re taking heavy losses up here, Commander.” Matt says, voice harried. 

Keith shakes his head, breath leaving him in a rush. “Okay. Lose them and then rendezvous at my position.”

“Roger that, Commander.”

Lance blinks quickly, clearing his vision enough to see Hunk laying down fire on the other side of Keith, easily pushing back the husks while Harbinger lays waste to their allies. Keith looks down at him, his gaze determined and resolute. And  _ oh,  _ does Lance understand what that means. 

It means he’s about to do something reckless and heroic and horrible. Something that will twist Lance’s insides up for months, something that will scrape his nightmares and pull at his chest. But even then - even knowing what Keith was capable of, watching him blast through enemies, experience the relentless  _ kindness  _ he was capable of...he would never lose faith. 

Keith always came back. 

Maybe not the same - they both fought off dreams enough to know that nothing is without its scars. But Lance has always been confident in Keith’s ability to pull off the damn impossible, to walk away from things that should’ve peeled his skin to the bones. 

Even death. 

But here, in the face of the devil itself...Lance wondered.  _ When does he stop coming home? _

Keith doesn’t give him time to ponder it, though. He sends out the evac notice, sighs, and bends to throw one of Lance’s arms around his shoulders. “Come on.”

Lance staggers to his feet, gunfire whizzing past their ears and red beams blazing through everything around them. Hunk is yelling, the yellow bits on his armor reminding Lance of the sun. 

What he wouldn’t give to feel it on him, just one more time. 

They limp back the way they came, the Normandy coming in with a small  _ whoosh, _ stealth drives humming and hiding it from the Reaper’s sight. They’re not far, and Hunk has run ahead to clear an easy pass for them to make it aboard. And Lance wishes like hell he could focus on anything other than the heat of Keith, pressing in close. 

The loading ramp slides open and soldiers  _ pour  _ out, laying down covering fire and shoring up their escape. Lance lets himself hope, lets himself dream that just for a second, everything will finally be okay. 

But it’s not. 

Because they make it to the ramp, and Hunk is holding his blasted side but extending an arm to take Lance. And Keith passes him over with a “here, take him.” And he stands there, staring at Lance like he’s memorizing him, like he’s going somewhere without him. 

“Keith…”

His boyfriend smiles, and it’s the most heartbreaking thing he’s ever seen. “You’ve gotta get out of here.”

“And you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Lance retorts, angry -  _ furious.  _ Because he’s staring out at a no man’s land and a beam screaming into space and a king of the fucking  _ Reapers,  _ and Keith thinks he’s going to do that  _ alone. _

“Don’t argue, Lance.” And  _ oh _ , Keith’s voice is hard, commanding. And he almost believes it. 

Almost. 

“We’re in this ‘til the end.” Lance says, and he fucking means it. He’ll walk right back onto that field if Keith asks it of him. 

But he doesn’t. His eyes ( _ always the eyes)  _ grow soft, and warm, and suddenly Lance can feel waves lapping at his feet and a hot summer breeze - because this is home. 

Keith’s eyes grow soft, and he closes the few feet between them. 

“No matter what happens here...you know I love you. I always will.”

His voice shakes, just a little. And Lance knows that this time...this time, he has to be the strong one. He has to let Keith run into the fire like this is a normal mission, like the  _ universe _ isn’t settling onto the shoulders of just one man, like he knows he’ll come back. Keith runs a hand along his jaw, resting their foreheads together before gently bringing his lips to Lance’s, the soft kiss stilling the fear in his heart. 

So Lance gathers himself. 

And he lets go. 

“I…” He says, and it’s slow and agonizing, shards of glass under his skin as Keith quietly drifts backwards towards his destiny. “...love you too.”

With those last words, Keith turns...and he runs. Lance watches him melt into the battlefield, black armor almost absorbing the light as he goes. The Normandy takes flight, and he stands watching for as long as he can, the atmosphere rushing towards them.

He loses sight of Keith as the ramp closes, and they rocket upwards into space. 

***

Lance is sitting in the med bay in his undersuit. It’s shredded in places, his armor is totally wrecked - but overall he could be worse. He winces as Coran pulls a small shard of metal from his thigh, blood welling before the omnigel takes effect. 

Could be worse - could sure as hell be better, too. 

He listens to the comms as he stares at the opposite wall, feeling his throat constrict with every devastating comment leaving the Admiral’s mouth. 

No one made it to the beam. 

_ Keith _ hadn’t made it to the beam.

The no man’s land had stayed that way, and Harbinger had killed them all. 

There are silent tears, and he feels Coran slowly unclench his hand from the table to grip his own. He looks over, and the red of his hair and mustache have never seemed brighter than now, when he gently pulls Lance into a hug. “I’m sorry, my boy.”

He pulls Coran in closer, savoring the hug in this moment. “Me too, Coran. I...I should’ve-“ 

The moment they knew they’d failed. 

“ _ Wait - my god. He did it. The Commander has armed the Crucible…” _

Lance’s head jerks up, eyes going wide as Coran spins around, hands scrabbling for the communicator in Lance’s visor. They bend their heads together to listen as he sounds the assault, and then-

They wait. 

Because the Crucible isn’t firing. Keith has opened the weapon, has armed it...but for some reason, he isn’t firing it. And - there, a report of Captain Shirogane, aboard and alive. So Keith wasn’t alone. Lance takes a second to breathe, just -  _ breathe.  _

Because Keith and Shiro were family: they’d seen each other through everything, been rocks to lean on, a face to call home. If Shiro was there, if he’d made it to the beam with Keith...Lance pitied  _ anything  _ putting itself in between them. Where Keith was fire, Shiro was  _ space:  _ gentle and kind and  _ merciless _ when it came to his brother. 

And there - the Admiral, calling a full retreat, sending everyone through the relay as far as they can get. Lance scrambles to his feet, leaves the visor with Coran and takes off down the hall until he’s able to launch himself into the elevator. He smashes the buttons again and again and  _ again,  _ urging it to go faster.

“C’mon,  _ c’mon -“ _

He stumbles out the door, hip catching on the edge of the galaxy map and nearly sending him sprawling. “Freaking - quiznack!”

Lance doesn’t slow, though. His legs are on fire through the pain, through the numbness of the omnigel, but still he pushes himself forward. He  _ slams _ into the back of Matt’s pilot seat, jostling him, but he doesn’t take his gaze off the controls. 

“Matt -  _ please _ , we have to -“

“I’m not letting the Commander die for me twice, Lance. I’ve just gotta - just - the Crucible is about to fire and -“

“Matthew.” N7 interrupts from the other pilot’s seat. She could feasibly  _ take  _ the ship’s controls from him, being the  _ unshackled AI inside of it _ , but her tone is nothing but sorrowful. “We cannot delay if we are to escape this system ahead of the blast from the Crucible. Commander Kogane, especially, would not want us to be caught in the backlash.”

Matt’s arms, frantically moving along the controls, still at her words. Lance feels himself contract at the core, feels his world shift, feels his vision darken around the edges. He knows she’s right.  _ Knows  _ they have to leave, to meet up at the rendezvous point and secure supplies. 

His heart, his soul, is tearing in two, crippling pain lashing against his ribs and searing through his chest. 

Lance puts a hand on Matt’s shoulder, and nods.    
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They make the jump through the darkness of space moments before Keith destroys the Reapers. 


	2. Chapter 2

The wave from the Crucible catches them halfway through their jump, tearing through the Normandy and spitting them out into whatever cluster they were going through. Lance screams as he’s thrown backwards, his aching arms unable to grab anything before he’s falling, and the ship is falling, and he doesn’t know which way is up and whose computer he just smashed into and -

Suddenly there’s a loud  _ crash _ , and he’s left laying there, staring at the ceiling. The  _ actual _ ceiling, and Lance just stays down. His body is  _ sore _ , he’s tired as shit, the love of his life is dead, and he’s crashed on some planet in the middle of god knows where. 

He needs a quiznacking drink.

Lance rolls over with a groan, his throat raw and  _ shit,  _ he doesn’t want to do this, but he does. He sits up and takes stock of the people around him, but everyone is moving, crying,  _ alive.  _ That’s  _ one  _ thing that’s gone right on this hellish day. 

He finally gets up, hand clutching his side, leg bleeding a bit from where he’s opened his cuts up. Matt is at the airlock, and even through this haze Lance can tell that something is wrong. 

“Planet’s breathable. I set the distress beacon but who knows if anyone else is even in this sector...we’ll have to see if she’s fixable, but uh...I think you’re gonna wanna see this.”

He pushes the panel and it slowly opens up in front of them, and - 

Sun. 

Sun, and a lush, green jungle, teeming with birds and insects and  _ life. _ Lance steps out onto the ground, reveling in the fierce burning of his heart as the sunlight beats down on his shoulders, heat evident even through the protective layer of his suit. Matt comes to stand next to him, one hand reaching out to steady himself against Lance’s shoulder. 

“N7 is gone,” he says, and  _ oh _ . “She - I don’t know, it must’ve been the blast, it must’ve taken her out with the Reapers but I thought-“

“Matt,” Lance says, and then he stops. Because there’s nothing he  _ can  _ say to make this better, to make this right. To bring back a hole that can never be filled, to give where another  _ gave.  _ So he doesn’t say anything except “I know” before he envelopes the other man in his arms, to give what comfort he can. 

And a hug is small consolation for a whole soul now lost to the void. 

“Is she...Matt, is her body…”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “it’s still there. Just, y’know. Empty.”

“We’ll have a look at her processors later, okay? When we get the Normandy up and running. I’m sure Pidge and Hunk could figure out how to bring her back.”

_ Unlike Keith. _

The words stay unsaid between them, but they’re there nonetheless. His warm heart cracks, the sun feels scalding, and he’s spiraling down. Lance knows he can be what they need him to be, knows he can step in and lead, knows they can  _ survive.  _ But there’s a black hole growing in him, dark, twisting and swallowing him whole, eating at his edges and peeling into his head. 

Lance’s legs begin to shake and he stiffens them, trying to stop, to stay strong, to stay  _ up.  _ But Hunk emerges from the Normandy and they lock eyes, and suddenly he knows. 

He’s not okay. This is real. 

And the Reapers have been destroyed, along with the love of his life. 

Matt goes from hugging him to supporting him as Hunk takes long strides to his side, vision blurring with tears. They’re coming so hard and fast and  _ shit  _ he needs to get this under control, can’t break down, not now,  _ not yet.  _ Lance slides into Hunk’s arms, feeling the tickle of his beard on his temple, and it grounds him. 

“Hey, buddy. I’ve got you. It’s gonna - it’ll -“

And  _ shit _ , Lance knew this would be hard on him, the day Keith stopped coming back. But he always knew it was a possibility.

So he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, grinds his tears to submission, pushes the cave in his chest closed. “I know, Hunk. We need to check supplies: have Coran bring up some extra med kits and transport anyone seriously hurt down to the medbay. You head to the engine, I’ll do medical. Matt,” he says as he turns to the pilot, “I need you to start checking food stores. I’ll send a few people down-“

“Lance,” Hunk interrupts, “are you, uh, sure this is-“

Lance just meets his eyes, and Hunk falls silent. Because his North Star just collapsed, became a white dwarf of memory, became a hero and a ghost in the same breath. 

But life moves forward, even when its heart has been left with someone in the past. 

  
  


***

  
  


There’s a memorial service on board about six weeks later. 

The Normandy is nearly functional enough for space flight, and Pidge is a few more sleepless nights away from rebooting N7. Lance snuck in and reprogrammed Rover to give her a shock if she worked anything over twelve hours though, and she’d threatened to skin the person responsible. 

There’s no way for her to know it was him, but Lance found a hot cup of coffee on his desk the next morning.

Really, it’s Keith’s desk. But Lance - well. He’s so tired of calibrating guns. Of looking at the pieces of this ship they put together, of putting things,  _ people _ , back together after the Reapers tore them apart. He’s been staying in Keith’s cabin since the crash, and no one has tried to stop him - they could all use a little piece of home.

And Lance’s is out there - lost to the stars. 

Varadero will be there, the shores and sand and sun will greet him, and he’ll collect seashells just for the people he has to mourn. But while the ocean and its song has always held a certain kind of comfort...the stars set his soul on fire.  _ Keith _ set his soul on fire. 

Lance doesn’t break down in front of the crew. Not his friends, his  _ family _ , out here. He waits until he’s between cool sheets that should be warm, until he’s breathing in the still air that should be hot and mingled, until he’s alone and breaking and falling with no one to catch him. And every night he burns to ash in the love he still carries, the ocean of neverending flames consuming him until he falls into dreams that almost feel like something whole. 

At dawn he rises, and like the phoenix, begins anew. 

It’s a little different, this rising. Sometimes he feels worse, sometimes it’s like the universe has swallowed his insides and carved out his dreams. But sometimes-

Sometimes he feels so alive, sometimes he moves forward and feels the shift, the loving and letting go and living with grief that comes from death. From moving on. 

And Lance doesn’t want to be okay with that, doesn’t want to see the dawn that Keith doesn’t return to but - he already has. And he has to face the future.

For their people. 

So they have a memorial service, and there are plaques and words said, and in a fit of insanity they hand  _ him  _ the plaque with  _ COMMANDER KOGANE  _ emblazoned on the front. And Lance looks to the wall of names, looks at all they’ve lost, looks at what it took them to get here...and he walks forward. 

There’s a space right under Shiro’s name. He made it to the beam, made it to the very end with Keith, was  _ there  _ when their future was decided. And Lance  _ knows  _ the crew needs closure, needs to mourn these people - more than icons or heroes, especially to them. But...he holds Keith’s plaque up, runs his hand over the name.

And steps away. 

Because Keith isn’t just an icon, he isn’t some hero that Lance couldn’t pick out from a crowd, would  _ never  _ be faceless, not to him or the people they love. And Keith?

He’d never given up on Lance. 

Not one damn time in the years they’ve shared; he’d always just dusted off his armor with a raised eyebrow and a “Got my back, Sharpshooter?” 

So Lance steps away, silently answering him.  _ Yeah, I got you buddy.  _ He looks into the eyes of the people around him, some holding confusion, others a twinge of anger. And he decides then the kind of leader he wants to be. 

“I’m not really one for speeches. That was Keith’s thing,” he says, “but y’know - he lead us through hell. He dug us out of more pits than he ever got us in, and that’s saying something. But he never stopped believing in us - the whole damn galaxy.” Lance pauses.

“It’s our turn to believe in him.”

And he melts back into the crowd, still clutching the long metal strip. Or at least he tries to - because there are hands, reaching, touching,  _ comforting.  _ Human and nonhuman alike, crew, friends,  _ family. _

Allura clears her throat behind him and he turns to find her at the board, a small smile on her face. “You know,” she says, “I do believe you’re right, Lance. So - one last time, darlings? For both of them.”

And she pulls Shiro’s plaque down in one easy motion, leaving the middle blissfully empty, only grey wall where once there were names of people they all loved. 

Allura walks over to him, through the sea of hands that part. “We’ll hold onto these, until we know for sure. And until we do...we’ll celebrate the lives we had with them.”

Lance reaches out as she hands him the metal and slides it under Keith’s, tucking them under his arm.  _ For later,  _ his mind whispers.  _ For never _ , his heart shoots back.  _ I’ve had enough death. _

He raises a toast as they pass around the last few bottles of wine they had stored in bunks, and looks to the holo of Keith situated on the table.

_ To the future.  _

***

It takes another week for them to make the last repairs, and for Pidge to reboot N7. 

She fires her up the day before they take off - she’d been so integrated into the Normandy’s systems that they hadn’t wanted to risk frying anything but...they had to try. Pidge nervously pulls at wires in the AI Core, fiddles with N7’s hand and triple checks the connections. 

“Pidgeon,” Lance says, “I think everything is good to go.” He walks to her side and slides a hand onto her shoulder. “You’ve done everything you can. If this doesn’t work we’ll just try again on Earth. And if that doesn’t work we’ll try Thessia. And if  _ that  _ doesn’t work, we’ll try -“

“I know, Lance. It’s just - I mean, Matt’s been walking around like a kicked dog. I normally wouldn’t say anything, but I don’t like it and - she’s important to all of us. N7 is family now.” Pidge looks at him through her glasses, brown eyes soft and sad and all too old for her age. 

“And we’ve already lost too much family.”

Lance smiles and scrubs a hand into her hair before pulling her into a hug, arms winding tightly around her shoulders. “I know, Pidge. But I also know you. Whatever happens, we’ve got your back. Where is Matt, by the way?”

“Oh,” she says, “I didn’t tell him. I don’t want to get his hopes up just in case this doesn’t work. He’s a great pilot and engineer  _ don’t tell him I said that,  _ but he would’ve just flipped the power button for a hard restart. Do you know how much  _ code  _ she’d altered? Well I do. Because I backed it all up  _ manually _ .”

“What do you mean, manually?” Lance asks.

“She means she printed and packed it all by hand, dude.” Hunk says as he walks in. “It took her, like, three days of nonstop work. There are what? Something along the lines of  _ ten thousand pages of code _ in her office and that’s just the new stuff N7 had added.”

“Pidge…”

“Don’t you start with me, Lance. She’s not just an AI, and I had to make sure I could bring her back exactly the way she wanted if-“

“Thank you.” And  _ oh,  _ how her eyes shine. Pidge has always been a good friend to him, even if they’ve had their differences. Another sister, even. He smiles at her and wipes the slow tears from her face, stepping back to gesture to her computer. “We can only try. You’ve worked hard for this, so let’s see what we’ve got.”

“Sure,” she croaks out, a lingering hand on N7’s arm. “Let’s freakin’ do this!”

“That’s the spirit!” Hunk calls, still standing by the door. 

“Hunk what the hell are you doing over there?” Lance asks.

“Well,” he says, “remember how she was like, an evil human supremacist bot before N7 took over the body? Not that I doubt your coding, Pidge!” He says quickly, hands coming up in front of him. “It’s just - if she wakes up with murder brain before we can get her coding input then I want to be  _ wayyyyyyy  _ back here. By the door.”

Pidge peers at him through squinted eyes, her glasses low on her nose before she pushes them back up with a huff. “She’s not going to be a  _ murder bot _ , Hunk, I already-“

“You don’t know that for sure! You can’t guarantee it, so I will keep myself and my computer and my  _ gun  _ right here until she can tell me your mom’s secret oatmeal cookie recipe.” Hunk sets his heavy gun on the bench next to his equipment, the thud emphasizing his point before he turns back to his screen. 

“Welp, let's do this thing,” Lance says, steering Pidge to her seat. “If she tries anything murder-y I’ll throw up the containment field before she gets to you guys.”

Pidge gives another long look in Hunk’s direction before she turns back to her computer, hands flying over the keys faster than Lance can keep up with. “Alright, we’re ready in three...two...one!”

There’s a low hum, the ship lights around him surging and dimming, and a loud  _ pop!  _ before things settle back to normal. The ship stays unmoving and unchanging, but you could hear a pin drop in the AI Core as all three of them hold their breath. 

Then it happens: a hand slowly comes up over a face, fingers flex and clench into a fist, but uncurl a moment later. There’s the rolling of ankles, of widened, wondering eyes - a slow inhale of someone not made to breathe but who chose it anyway, for them. Eyes, shining with an emotion Lance doesn’t have a name for meeting his own, and shit, is he crying?

N7 sits up in a fluid motion, her robotic body completely soundless - good as new. She stands on long legs with no hesitation in how she moves; the easy way she carries herself. And Lance sees the person Keith helped shape all over again. 

Like they’d never lost her. 

Like they’d just been given a piece of their family back, after the war had taken so many, had nearly taken  _ everything.  _

“N7?” Lance quietly asks.

Her eyes soften, so human even with their metallic coating. “Hello, Lance. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

“We were just about to take off, but it’s not like you to nap on the job. Figured we better wake you up before Matt finds out - you know how useless he is without his copilot.” Lance holds it, pushes at his relief...but it’s too big. It seals a small hole in him, takes the scab and makes it a scar. His lip wobbles.

N7 smiles, and it’s like the whole damn universe just got a little brighter, a little fuller than it was only five minutes ago. 

Pidge is already out of her seat, arms wrapping tightly around N7’s middle, burying her head in her neck. She’s definitely not a kill bot, she’s still  _ N7,  _ and - for once, for the first time in a long while...there’s a  _ later.  _ They’ll run their tests and diagnostics and fiddle with fine tuning... _ later.  _

And one more person will be there, in that  _ later  _ with them. Lance moves forward and picks them both up in a hug, gently nuzzling into Pidge’s hair before squealing as Hunk lifts them  _ all  _ in his giant embrace, laughter filling the AI Core. 

Happiness...no longer feels fleeting, like a shadow in the night. It feels like forever, like the rest of his  _ life  _ is right here, like home stopped being a place and started being  _ people.  _

Even if he’s missing the most important one, he’ll take this. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He still has to stop Matt from bashing his head on a table when N7 walks out, all on her own. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When they land on Earth, Lance is the first one off. He doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to see whatever memorial they’ve erected for Keith, doesn’t want to feel the true end of their story. But he’s done a lot of work these past couple months, and entertaining the hands doesn’t necessarily entertain the mind. He doesn’t have a choice. 

And closure always was better for his soul than wondering, waiting. 

He’s...healing. It’s slow. It’s  _ so quiznacking slow _ , and he still has dreams every night, and his hands shake just looking at Keith’s coffee cup, and their bed is still too big, and - well. It’s only been two months. Time heals all wounds and all that jazz. 

_ Maybe I’ll get a dog, if there are any left. Keith always did like those big ass wolf looking ones on Thessia...would fix the bed problem.  _

See? He’s dealing. Keeping his hands occupied helps, and everyone  _ knowing  _ and  _ supporting _ ...it goes a long way. Lance doesn’t want to make it all about him, doesn’t want anyone feel like their suffering is less. So he’s been making the rounds, being a shoulder to cry on, sharing their pain with his own. And just -  _ knowing _ what Keith meant to people, listening to all the shit he got them out of, hearing exactly how they saw him and how much he cared…

Lance knows he’s not alone, and his heart has been all the better for it. 

When he steps off of the Normandy it’s raining. 

Not the sun filled sky he’d thought it would be, if he’s being honest. But god, has he missed Earth rain. 

It had absolutely  _ poured  _ one night, before the end. When they were in London, with the sounds of Reapers and fighting ten blocks down...it had still felt like a little slice of heaven. 

_ “Hey Lance,” Keith says, “come look at this.” _

_ Lance is up and out of their makeshift bed in less than a tic, by Keith’s side in nearly an instant. “More husks?” He asks, peering through the window. There’s only rain that he can see though, and flashes of lightning.  _

_ Keith just smiles and puts a hand into his hair, rubbing down onto his neck. “Nah, nothing like that for once. I just- I know how hard it is, seeing Earth like this. And uh, I was actually hoping you’d dance with me.” _

_ “Dance?” Lance asks, and then laughs a bit. “What’s up, Red, need a distraction?” _

_Keith’s eyes are a soft, molten lavender when he looks at him, and _**_fucking Christ_** _Lance loves this man. “No. No distractions, just you and some rain.”_

_ Lance doesn’t protest when Keith pulls him close, nearly alone in the doorway of this abandoned building. “You know,” Lance says, “there’s a perfectly good bed right over there if you wanted  _ ** _me _ ** _ and  _ ** _some rain_ ** _ , cariño.” _

_ Keith huffs a laugh as he slowly spins them, their feet perfectly timed and soft on the wood of the floor. “Don’t you worry, Blue. I’ve got the rest of the night to take you apart, I only want one dance.” _

_ “Make it two, then.” Lance says, and brushes his lips against Keith’s.  _

The rain has always meant happiness for Lance. The smell, the taste, the  _ feelings  _ that came with it - all of it together, always comforting and holding him. The softest moments of his life have been spent in water. 

He supposes the saddest ones, now, too.

He heads down the ramp, leading the pack of people behind him towards the crowd gathering on the ground. Lance had asked Matt and N7 call ahead, but keep whatever they heard or learned to themselves. He didn’t need a confirmation. Not yet. Not until his feet were planted on Earth and he had a goddamn actual meal that didn’t include alien bananas. 

_ Guess that’ll have to wait, though,  _ he thinks, spotting Adam at the front of the crowd. He has a scar from the middle of his left eyebrow, and it starts small but - it travels down his cheek, and onto his neck until it disappears under his uniform. It’s a wide, pale thing, tearing through his dark skin, leaving a reminder every time he looks in the mirror. 

Lance still has that nick on his eyebrow from the time his back got blown to shit on Omega, with Keith. He can understand. 

His left hand comes up to wave...and it’s not flesh. Not anymore. It’s metal, but streamlined - it moves perfectly, soundlessly, probably painless. Lance feels his eyebrows furrow in confusion at the sight, but he moves towards him anyway. 

Adam always was a rock in the storm. 

There are delegates and officers and regular ass civilians that stop him to  _ thank  _ him,  _ all of them _ , on the way through. He smiles and nods, but his mouth tastes of ash. 

Adam finally shoves through, and - it’s harder, seeing him like this. But Lance has always loved him, always enjoyed the time he and Keith had spent at Shiro’s flat with them. And he’s seen worse on people he loves. So really, he doesn’t hesitate at all. He throws his arms wide and  _ launches  _ himself into Adam’s embrace, tucking his head into his neck. The tears flood into his eyes but he’s holding them back, his shoulders start to tremble, his legs feel like they’re made of glass. Lance doesn’t want to show this side of himself here, to these people - even if he feels like the rain could swallow him whole, the wind could shatter him into a thousand pieces. 

“Hey kiddo,” Adam says, and Lance can hear the smile in his voice. “Long time no see, huh?”

Lance pats his back and steps back, wiping at his eyes. “Yeah, it’s been a while. We got stranded on a planet in the Apien Crest, took us a little while to get the old girl back up and running. I guess -“

“Lance.”

_ Ah, here it comes.  _ Lance feels his body stiffen, his chest locks in place and he’s almost sure that he’ll collapse if he takes another breath.  _ No. No. No. Not yet. I’m not ready I’m - _

“-surprised you landed here, to be honest. I told Matt that I was here, and Takashi is still getting used to his new arm so he’s resting but...Keith isn’t in London anymore, so I figured you’d be stopping there first.”

Lance feels as though he’s at the end of a  _ looooong  _ tunnel; his vision blurs around the edges and his ears feel like they have cotton stuffed in them, and he blinks furiously to try and get his bearings. “C-can you run that by me again, Adam? What - ah- what do you m-mean Keith is somewhere else? Because I-“

“Oh,” and Adam’s eyes are so  _ wide _ , and the brown is rich in the overcast weather. Like the warmest place to fall on a cold winter’s day, or his abuela’s favorite old knit blanket.  _ Comforting.  _ “They didn’t tell you, did they?”

Lance clears his throat, and doesn’t look away. “Tell me what?”

Adam grips his hands, and says two words that change everything. Change what he thought he knew, change the bleeding cavern in his chest, change his  _ soul  _ and everything in between. He holds onto them like a lifeline as he passes out, because  _ oh _ . 

Maybe this isn’t a tragedy. Maybe this isn’t just a story about sacrifice, maybe there’s not just an  _ end.  _ Maybe there’s a new beginning. 

  
  


“Keith’s alive.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Lance wakes up in a room that’s all metal and windows, on a couch that’s softer than clouds look.  _ We need to get one of these for the ship - but like in bed form,  _ is his first thought as he squishes his hands in the cushions. The second is,  _ where the hell am I?  _ The third -

The third has him launching himself up, head swinging wildly and hands already scrabbling for boots because  _ where the quiznacking hell is Keith? _

A scarred arm grabs his wrist and has him glancing up into grey, storm colored eyes, above a thick new scar across a strong nose. “Woah, Lance. Slow down there.”

“Shiro?” And fuck, his voice is wrecked. Lance just woke up and he feels like he’s about to fall over again.

Shiro’s eyes crinkle in the corners, and laugh lines turn into a genuine smile. “Yeah, it’s me. Thought the Reapers had finally put me down, huh?”

“Never,” Lance whispers. His lips feel numb, and his head is  _ swimming _ trying to come to terms with everything that’s happening. “How did you…?”

“How did I survive? Well,” he chuckles, “it was mostly luck. Still lost my arm when part of the Citadel smashed into Earth, but the inner console was protected by some sort of field that lasted through the atmosphere.”

Lance leans forward and takes his hand, smiling and just - enjoying the quiznack out of getting to talk to Shiro again, when he never thought he would. Having someone you love like family covered in the grime of war, in the caked mud of the pits of hell, during your final conversation isn’t the best memory to carry. It’s still there: the dust and red haze closing his throat, the ramp shutting on it all as they got the news. But having Shiro here,  _ alive _ , closes that wound just a bit. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Shiro.”

“Me too, Lance. Me too. Now,” he says, squeezing Lance’s hands, “we have to talk about Keith.”

“You haven’t even told me about Adam yet.”

“You’re right. I haven’t. Because that’s his story to tell, and he’ll tell you when he’s ready. But back to my point-“

“Also did you know that there’s the equivalent of alien bananas like  _ one system over?  _ Because they are  _ delicious _ it’s like a banana but  _ bass boosted-“ _

_ “ _ Lance _ .” _

_ “ _ Like if you took a regular banana and made it the size of your forearm and  _ triple  _ as tasty-“

“ _ Lance!” _

“...sorry, I’m just,” he waves his hands, “very overwhelmed and is there enough oxygen in here?” And  _ oh what the cheese  _ why is he having a panic attack  _ now? _ “I should just,”  _ gasp gasp gasp, “ _ I need to-“

“Hey, woah woah woah, come here. Just close your eyes and concentrate on the sound of my voice. Deep breaths for me, Lance.” Shiro rubs his hands up the backs of his arms before they settle onto his shoulders, squeezing gently. “Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to impress Adam and ended up with three broken ribs? Because - honestly, I think that’s the moment he fell in love with me.”

“It’s true,” says Adam’s voice from somewhere behind him, along with the clink of glass. “He was just so... _ endearingly stupid,  _ trying to get that bike down a set of railing.”

“Still got me your number.”

A small sniff. “I suppose.”

Lance takes another deep breath, desperate to laugh, to leave this behind him. He knows Keith is alive, but - a million different scenarios are screaming through his head, clouding his mind and turning his chest to a pit of lava. He can’t stop these feelings, can’t stop the wheel that makes its way around his head to a mantra of  _ he’s alive but he’s amnesiac  _ or _ god what if he just never wakes up and then I’m standing in a hospital at eighty begging him to open his eyes, I can’t do this I can’t take this I- _

“Here you go,” Adam says, and one of Shiro’s hands leaves his shoulder. “He’s supposed to wake up in a couple days, by the way.”

Lance’s head jerks up as his eyes fly open just to land on a steaming cup held in front of his face, the strong lemon and tea scent hitting him like a wave. His chest begins to unwind as he takes the cup - an orange thing with dancing Scooby-Doo around the middle. “Thanks, Adam. And, uh-“

“You just couldn’t wait, could you?” Shiro asks Adam, brows pinched at his fiancé. “I was warming him up to it, letting him-“

“You were prolonging his suffering, Takashi.”

“You made him pass out.”

“ _ I  _ was simply telling him that his boyfriend was alive, not my fault he’s one for dramatics.”

Lance snorts at that a bit, because how many times had Keith told him that? “ _ It’s not dramatics, baby, it’s presentation! Like, if I put this much effort into guns and ships, how much effort am I gonna put into dismantling your criminal empire?”  _ he’d always answer with a kiss against his cheek, maybe a tug on his braid. Lance takes a sip of his tea, lets the warmth overtake and calm him - takes a slice of peace for himself since the end of this war. 

“So...I guess you know where they moved him? This has been - a lot, I’m not going to lie. But I want to see him.” Lance’s voice barely shakes, and he’s damn proud of himself for that. “I guess I spent all this time trying to make myself believe he was alive, but I didn’t really expect him to come back from this shit, right? And - I just need to see him. I just gotta know for sure that I’m not dreaming all this up.”

Shiro studies him for a second, his eyes holding a weight they didn’t before. Like he’s weighing his words, like he’s afraid he’s about to say something that changes how Lance feels. “So you know Keith has been in a coma since we found him. He was...awake, in the rubble. And we had to force him under, honestly, to get him in one of those pods the Holts have been developing.”

“Shiro.” Lance looks him right in the eyes and straightens his spine. “What aren’t you telling me? How long was he down there?”

Shiro sighs and rubs a hand over his mouth, looking back towards Adam - who nods and gestures with his cup towards Lance. “It was a couple days. I wasn’t there, but Adam was, so I know what they found. He was burnt up his arms from one of Harbinger’s beams, and a metal beam had sliced up his face. He was...delirious.”

Adam speaks up from his seat, eyes darkened and serious. “They don’t know if he’s going to come out of it. His spine was broken and they were mostly able to fix that with the pod, but his arms had enough nerve damage that he might not hold a sword again. And...he was  _ wrecked _ , Lance. He has a really long road to recovery and -“

“Okay. I’m just gonna stop you right there, because I hope you don’t think that I can’t handle it. He was dead for  _ two years  _ while those Cerberus assholes rebuilt him for their fucked up agenda, and we made it through _ that _ . And the war is finished, over,  _ kaput _ . He could use a vacation from sword fighting, yeah? So can you just - tell me where he is?” 

He doesn’t plead, hasn’t for a long time - he’s asking before  _ telling.  _ He loves these men like family, but they’re not going to stop him. Not now, not after everything they’ve pulled themselves through. 

Shiro looks at him and smiles, heavily but also easily; like the weight of the world is there but happiness and kindness is too. “Sure thing, kiddo. They moved him to a hospital in Berlin, it was the closest they could get to London; everything else was still under lockdown.”

“They’re talking about moving him to Nigeria, or somewhere in Australia for therapy.” Adam adds. 

Lance quirks an eyebrow at him. “I take it space flight is a big no-no right now?”

“Sure is, bucko,” Adam answers, taking a sip of tea, “so don’t get any bright ideas when he wakes up and gives you those puppy dog eyes. You  _ or  _ Takashi, I swear you two have something that stops you from telling him no.  _ Especially  _ when he needs it.” 

Shiro clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. He reaches for Adam’s hand and there’s... _ something _ that passes between them. A look, a gentle caress of a thumb, a squeeze at the right time - a language he has with Keith, but can’t really decipher here. They’re soft but sharp, always balancing on an edge, always keeping each other in check; and it suits them. They’re...happy. 

And Keith is  _ alive.  _

Lance sits his mug down on the coffee table and stands, stretching his arms over his head before his hands drop onto his hips. 

“So when do we leave?”

  
  


***

  
  


The hospital is  _ small _ , smaller than Lance thought it would be. It looks like there are only a few wings and an emergency room, but everything is open and bright with windows taking up most of the walls. His tall boots scuff on the pavement as he walks towards the entrance, immaculate lawn stretching out along the path.  _ I know Shiro said this doubles as a research facility but  _ ** _wow. _ **

Lance doesn’t give himself time to think of what’s ahead - quiznack, he tries not to think of what’s behind, either. He’s just kind of taking this in the moment. They woke Keith up yesterday and he missed it, they all did - but the doctor called and said he was still pretty loopy from all the medicine and wouldn’t have known anyway. 

It’s a small comfort, he supposes.

Adam threw him a set of keys before he left, for a house and a car. “We rented something for you. Takashi knows you can afford it, but just let us do this for you guys, okay? It’s, uh-“

Lance had hugged and thanked him,  _ them _ , before he took off. Didn’t even look at the house. And Shiro wanted to be there, but recovery for a lost arm was no joke: he had a full blown shouting match with his doctor in London just to make the shuttle flight to Berlin. Adam had finally stepped in and told the doctor that they  _ would  _ be going, and he had more than enough personal experience to be able to take his husband on a thirty minute  _ shuttle ride,  _ thank you very much. Shiro would see Keith in a few days, and after everything...that was enough. Enough to know that someone was there, to know that he didn’t have to take everything on himself. 

Lance stops in front of the door and looks at the flowers in his arms, inhaling deeply. Out of everything you’d think florists would be closed at the end of the world, but an Altean girl with blonde pigtails and wide eyes whooshed in like a breath of fresh air. Lance had spent an  _ hour  _ just making small talk with her and after this shit turns around…

He thinks he’s going to introduce her to Allura.

Lance makes his way to reception, fingers anxiously drumming against his side as his pace picks up. A middle aged woman is there, hands flying over a holoscreen in front of her. Lance clears his throat. 

“I’m here to see Commander Keith? Uh, Keith Kogane?”

“Name?” She asks without looking up, hands still moving a mile a minute. 

“Lance McClain. Or did you mean his, because I just-“

“Go up four floors, take a right at the red door and he’s the third on your left. Can’t miss it.” 

_ You’d think they’d have better security for the hero of the Universe,  _ he thinks, and then has to hold back a snort.  _ As if Keith wouldn’t throw the biggest fit at that. _

“Thanks for your help!” He says, but he’s not sure if she even hears him. Lance takes the elevator up three floors and has to backtrack after ten minutes of looking for the damn red door he’s so nervous _ .  _ He can’t remember the last time he was so flustered except when Keith asked about his  _ reach  _ and  _ flexibility.  _

He finally falls out of the stairwell thirty feet down from that  _ damn red door _ and makes his way towards the corner room - three down, just like Reception Lady had said. Lance shouldn’t be nervous. He  _ shouldn’t.  _ It’s just Keith, just his best friend in the universe, just his Commander, just the love of his life, just  _ everything.  _

So yeah, Lance is all sorts of quiznacking nervous. 

He shakes his shoulders out and takes a deep breath before consciously relaxing his body, letting the tension fall from his shoulders and chest. Lance has been in a lot of close calls and razor wire situations over the last few years, has already had to deal with Keith’s death and re-life once before. This is nothing, and something in him  _ snaps  _ at how silly he’s being - he won’t admit it sounds a lot like one grumpy Commander. That’s for him to know and Keith to never find out. 

Lance rolls his eyes at himself and swings into the room, quietly taking in the fully glass window and the mound of flowers and a giant teddy bear in the corner that has  _ Love, Shiro and Adam  _ on the foot long tag.  _ You can’t fool me, you sentimental losers. I  _ ** _know _ ** _ Adam picked that thing out.  _ But he’s stalling and he  _ knows  _ he’s stalling.

When he finally lets his eyes land on Keith he’s almost startled to see beautiful liquid purple staring back at him. Like he’d expected him to be asleep, or maybe still out of it y’know? But Keith’s eyes are clear, and they’re filling with tears, and all of a sudden nothing matters but the man in front of him. The pain, the war, the Reapers, the suicide missions, the explosions, the scars. None of it compares to the other heart beating in the room. 

Lance drops the flowers into a chair and is kissing Keith before his brain has time to catch up to his mouth. It’s soft, and warm, and he’s still recovering so Lance probably shouldn’t be so enthusiastic about this but a  _ hello darling, welcome back  _ kiss isn’t something he thought he’d ever get. 

He thought there was only  _ goodbye, please don’t go, please come home.  _

But here Keith is, gasping into his mouth and groaning and  _ fuck _ he’s missed this. He’s missed hands in hair and the push and pull and how his chest feels  _ whole _ , like the gaping wound has been sealed up, like he has a thousand suns held in his hands. Lance doesn’t want to ever stop kissing Keith. Not in this life, or the next, or whatever the hell comes after. 

_ This  _ is worth everything they’ve ever gone through. 

They inevitably have to breathe and Lance gently leans back just enough to rest their foreheads together, the heat from their breath mingling together. 

“Hey there, Red. Long time no see.”

Keith huffs a laugh and hums in the back of his throat, an agreeable sound. “Sure has been a while. I missed you, Lance.” His voice is raspy and strained, but so,  _ so  _ happy. 

“You’ve only been awake one day, what do you know,” he says, and sticks his tongue out at Keith. 

“I know I love you.” And  _ damn _ , if that isn’t a kick in the teeth. 

“I never  _ could  _ stay mad at you for shit, could I? Running off like that, I ought to kick your ass myself. I won’t. But I  _ should _ . Just add a tally to your ‘deserved ass kickings’ book and know that it’s mine.” Lance pulls back to take him in, eyes roving over his face and upper body. “I love you too, you hard headed bastard.”

Keith laughs again, and  _ Christ _ it’s been too long since he’s heard that. He has bandages all over him: his arms are completely wrapped up with only his fingers free; and he has a large bandage wrapping from the front of his chest over one shoulder. Keith is sporting a new scar from the middle of his cheek to his neck, a thick, slicing thing that looks smooth for its size. He...looks better than Lance though he would, honestly. A little thin, but nothing that can’t be fixed. His hair is nearly as long as before - it’s only lost about 6 inches from the bottom, so he either got a haircut or it got singed some in the fall. He has smudges under his eyes, and it’s like - like he’s waiting for Lance to pass judgement or something. 

But fuck, he’s never loved him as much as he does right now. 

Lance smooths a hand into his hair and kisses him again, softly, and just once this time. “I’ll forgive you, but only because you actually listened to me for once.”

Keith crinkles his eyebrows up in confusion and Lance wonders if he can can actually burn up from the inferno in his heart. “Do you remember that conversation we had, before the final push? I said ‘ _ come back alive’,  _ and here you are.”

Lance picks up one of his hands and kisses the bare knuckles, still tenderly scarred from whatever the hell happened. The skin is thin and pink in jagged lines, carving his callouses in half and changing the way they feel under Lance’s own fingertips...and he thinks back, to what Adam said - about how Keith might never hold a sword or a gun again. And he’s already known for a while, but...it doesn’t matter. He’s done enough,  _ sacrificed  _ enough, to lay down his weapons. 

“Yeah. A little worse for wear, but I’m okay. I’ll be okay. How’s the crew? I-“ he looks away, tilting his head towards the ceiling. “I know what destroying the Reapers did to N7, and I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t-”

“Hey, hey, hey, woah, woah, woah. Cariño, baby, light of my life - look at me,” Lance says, reaching for Keith’s face, “she’s fine. Pidgeon had all of N7’s coding shit stored in her room and we booted her right back up, no problem. You just woke up, you can’t be worrying about other people, Keith. You gotta focus on  _ you  _ getting better. Let the galaxy worry about itself for once.”

Keith looks like he wants to argue, but then he gently brings one of his hands to rest on top of the fingers Lance has on his cheek. “Alright, Blue. You’ve got me there. Look at you, taking advantage of an invalid. The  _ nerve.” _

“You know...the crew tried to have a memorial service for you.”

“ _ What?”  _ Keith exclaims, and Lance is almost  _ positive _ he’d be trying to jump out of his bed if he wasn’t hooked up to so many machines. 

“Yeah, babe. There’s a plaque and everything. Metal, of course. They didn’t even put your first name on it, which is a crime in itself, but there were  _ speeches,  _ and-“

“Please tell me you’re joking, oh my god.”

“Nope! I would’ve brought it with me but Shiro said you’d actually try to strangle me if you woke up to your own memorial plaque.” Lance winks at him, and the last of the tension fades from Keith’s shoulders as he growls.

“He was right. I must be having a nightmare or some sort of - did we actually die? Lance, is this the afterlife? Because -“

“Oh,” Lance says, and god he’s holding back his laughter so much something is going to bust, “they’re planning a statue too. Like right in the heart of London. Also on Altea, and Palaven, and-“

“ _ No.  _ I’m vetoing it.”

“Which one, Red?”

“ _ All of them. I’m  _ the Commander, they can’t put up a damn statue of  _ me  _ if I tell them no.” Keith puffs his cheeks out and crosses his arms, and Lance is just - so damn smitten with him. 

“Good thing I already signed off on them.” He says, and Keith’s eyes go comically wide.

“You did  _ what? _ ”

“Yeah. I knew you’d say no, so as Acting Commanding Officer of the Normandy and your boyfriend I took a little initiative. They didn’t even question it, and you deserve a little recognition.” He picks at his fingernails just a bit, to really sell it.

“Lance.  _ Lance,”  _ Keith says, barely gripping his shoulders, “ _ please  _ tell me you’re joking. I’m too weak for this just  _ please  _ tell me they’re not actually going to build  _ statues  _ of me.” 

He finally breaks and starts laughing, his eyes leaking tears as his stomach pulls in.  _ So this is what a happy ending feels like, huh?  _ Lance tips forward as he tries to wrangle in the giggles, leaving a kiss on the tip of Keith’s nose. “I’m joking, sweetheart.”

Keith huffs another laugh, a little deeper and raspier than the last. “Good. Otherwise I’d have to use some of that political power I  _ must’ve  _ gotten from saving the universe to tell them to go f _ -“ _

“They didn’t ask me for permission at all. Just sent me a very strongly worded email about how they were doing this and that I needed to get you on board for the ribbon ceremony.” Lance moves down to Keith’s mouth, kissing him in between words now. “Sorry, querido, it’s already been decided.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Keith bites his lip. Lance supposes he deserves it. 

  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It takes five months for Keith to walk on his own. It takes a year and a half for him to hold a sword. They buy a house, and Lance gets him one of those cosmic wolf looking puppies from Thessia - which grows into the size of a  _ horse _ , and no, he didn’t know that when he got it. It’s like having a blue, teleporting Clifford in their backyard. They see Allura and Romelle every week for coffee, and Pidge and Hunk once a month for dinner. Their other friends and family stop by when they can - Shiro and Adam live right up the street, so every other night they’re not busy, someone is wandering into a house, loudly asking what they want to eat. 

It’s good. Not everything is great - a lot of planets are still rebuilding, the relays are barely functioning, and more than a few places have been decimated. Keith wants to jump back in, wants to keep going, keep  _ moving.  _ He fights and he tells and he demands, but he’s won his battle - and he’s already carried enough weight on his shoulders. 

Lance buys him a hammock instead, and stakes it right on the tree line next to the beach. Windy, but comfortable. Warm, but never too hot. He knows Keith was made to move, to do - but he needs some balance in his life. And he’s spent a lifetime  _ doing.  _

When he first brought it home, Keith had rolled his eyes and told Lance he must’ve bought it for himself, that he was  _ fine,  _ that he’d had enough relaxation to last a lifetime. But there he is, now: bare toes barely poking up over the side, long hair in a braid over one shoulder and a book in his hands. There’s a nice breeze coming through the thick trees, pine needles soft under Lance’s feet. 

Things are still hard. They survived a war, after all. But this? 

This is everything. 

Lance fiddles with the chain around his neck, pulling it loose. He takes a moment to look at the ring: black, with swirling fire contained in it. He’s really not sure how they do it, but when he went into the shop, they’d already had the rings laid out for him; like they knew exactly who he was asking. Lance slips it off of the necklace and just - looks at it, and then back to Keith. Then at the home they made,  _ together.  _

Lance remembers wondering when Keith would stop coming back to him. It’s as vivid as the sun burning through the morning sky, or the waves lapping against the shore of his mind. But those days have passed, and it’s time to embrace something new - not the worry, or the fear, or the terror of what comes  _ after.  _

He gathers his courage and makes his way to Keith, a smile on his face. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


To embrace the future, and whatever may come -  _ together. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been my baby, so if you’ve made it this far thank you so much. A huge shout out to Lines for being my beta for this fic, and the KWS gc for sending me love and encouragement every step of the way! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated<3


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